


treasonous love

by orphan_account



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary moved closer to Lavinia, placing a hand gently on her shoulder and leaning in slowly, whispered, “. . . Have you ever made love to a woman in your mind?” Lavinia gasped, and that sound from her mouth was all the answer Mary needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	treasonous love

Many kingdoms graced the towering mountains and rolling hills of this world of winter, some kingdoms had even been whispered to exist beneath the water and weeds. But the crown jewel of these cities was the stronghold that lay beside a mountain; the Kingdom of Shadows. A brotherhood that existed in the first page of histories ever written (indeed, they were the ones who had written them) had founded and built this city of stone and snow, the last living descendant of one of the brother’s families was King Stevan of the Gracelands who now reigned as monarch.

The King of these lands had little love for the gods and even littler love for his wife, whom he had married on the day of his ascension to the throne, though he had not touched the Queen for years. A sevennight would pass without him saying two words to her, and no sons or daughters had the Queen given him. Though if the King laid with his Queen once in a blue moon, he might actually have gotten her with child, but he seemed to disregard the fact.

It was said (by some) that the Queen preferred the love of women to men, that for years, all across the kingdom she had seduced young virginal girls with her womanly charms; charms only the King himself should be privy to, though the Queen was ruthless in silencing those who spread such rumours.

Rumours they were and rumours they weren’t. Queen Mary had a secret hunger, a thirst only quenched by the love of women. Willing all of them, though not many trustworthy, some she had to silence with gold, some with titles and hasty betrothals arranged, and some she could quiet with but a kiss. Handmaids some, serving girls but a few. To prove the whisperers true, she _had_ deflowered virgins before, pretty young things with a blush on their cheeks and between their legs. Her likings to them changed with every waning moon, but each she loved and treated well, as if they were her own wives, but they passed in and out of her life like the sun did in these parts. But it was the whores and courtesans of the Weeping Lands of Winter that the Queen had a penchant for. She would gift them with gold, jewels and dresses, and in return they would play the pet, one by one, her willing slaves, every one her favourite and every one her true love. For a while.

Every now and again a courtier would catch her eye. The freshly flowered daughter of an earl or lord would be brought to court, sweet, dewy-eyed and ripe for the plucking. Though some were wedded and bedded before she could snatch them up, and although that was unfortunate, it wasn’t really a problem. She had never found fault in her way of life, ignored as she was by her husband and a lone wolf by nature, Queen Mary thought she was happy.

She thought she was whole.

~

Lavinia’s hands fumbled at the pearl necklace she wore, standing nervously before the court and all its occupants. Her lord husband stood beside her. “Stop _fidgeting,_ my lady.” he said through a smile, gritting his teeth as he glanced round. She let go of the pearls. Her hands went to her sides obediently. She breathed.

“His Majesty the King!”

All the voices, noise, chatter quieted.

“Her Majesty the Queen!”

All the court turned to look. To the King, his crown upon his head, his jaw set, stern and unsmiling, and the Queen by his side. Garnets and beads of jet adored the net of gold she wore over her mahogany hair, and no eye was drawn to the King in that moment. And in that same moment, as all the lords, ladies and knights went to bow to their rulers, Lavinia did too, and as she rose, her eyes strayed where they oughtn’t. The Queen’s proud gaze flickered almost imperceptibly back towards her; a smile was hidden in the eyes that did not grace the lips. Lavinia looked down at the marble floor, her cheeks warm. She turned to the front as the King and Queen approached.

The ceremony was over; her husband had been given lands and a title by the King, whom he had pleased in some way. The feast had been after that. Such extravagance was only ever outdone by a royal birth, coronation or wedding. Lavinia tasted every dish she could, out of the fifty that were offered, and she gazed at the roast swan and peacock in their plumage, the boar and beef and mutton, venison, fatted pig and trout. She felt as if she were a painted doll, taken wherever her holder chose to go and she could only sit where she was placed, smile permanently frozen upon her lips.

~

Not many days after, a messenger came to her apartments, one of the Queen’s own handmaids. Lavinia (Lady Lavinia, now) rose uncertainly and received the messenger in her own private chambers.

“Her Majesty the Queen requires your presence at her private bathhouse. You will be escorted there on the morrow by one of her Majesty’s own attendants. Good day.” she left without a smile or another word, and, true to the invitation, the next day a silent, veiled lady draped in dyed muslin arrived the next day to fetch her, and Lavinia was transported to the bathhouse in one of the Queen’s own litters, with dark red silks hung all round it to hide the passenger.

Burly guards stood outside the Queen’s bathhouse, and as Lavinia was ushered inside, she noticed the inside was patrolled by bald, portly men dressed in sweat-stained tunics with knives and even swords strapped to them, one had a machete slung around his middle on a belt. She trembled at the sight of the gleaming blades. The bathhouse was not empty, as Lavinia had expected it to be, but full of young girls and women, steam and soap and incense. She inhaled delightedly, following her attendant to one of the steaming baths, and, though her very nature was shy and timid, and at first she wished there was no one to see her strip naked, as she removed her silks and stepped into the hot, perfumed water, she was almost glad of the women all around her, and the fearsome eunuchs guarding them.

She bent down and wet her hands, feeling the water wash almost thickly over her skin. Scented oils had been added to the water, she realised. Lavinia cupped her hands together and filled them, bringing the water up to splash over her neck, along her chest, and trickling down between her legs. She smiled at the incense and hot water already working; she was relaxed. . . drowsy, even. If she could just lie in the water, and rest her head. . .

She suddenly remembered why she was there. She raised her head and looked about, in the clamour of young women and old, girls and ladies, all naked, bathing or draped in damp robes. She searched until her eyes stung from the steam, until she spotted the Queen Mary lounging naked by a hot pool, smiling, laughing as she spoke intently to a comely girl that lay near her. Lavinia’s mouth opened slightly in shock at the utter ease the Queen showed. Her gaze flickered between the Queen’s laughing mouth, the perspiration that had dewed upon her ivory bosom, her perfect white belly, and what lay below it. She turned away, ashamed at her own foolishness, she had been emboldened by the Queen’s ignorance of her being here. She mustn’t do it again.

But at the sound of a splash that rose above the others, Lavinia broke her concentration and turned, to only see a body of rippling, clear water. Before Mary, Queen of the Weeping Lands and Silent Waters burst from the silent water she had submerged herself in and rose, proud and bare, dripping from the pool. Moisture poured from her hair that hung past her waist, and beaded like dew in the hair that lay nestled below her belly, above her dampened milky thighs, and hid what lay between them.

Lavinia gasped at the perfection of her figure, at the vision before her, like the very birth of Venus.

Then those penetrating eyes opened and were upon her like the damp heat of the pools. Lavinia felt the heat rise in her, rush to her cheeks and neck and. . .

She turned, throwing on her damp sandsilks, and pushing her way through the crowd of women and past the armed guards, fled.

~

The breeze ruffled the worn pages of the large book Lavinia held in her lap as she read in the garden, basking in the spot of sunlight, so utterly rare this late in the year that she had loosened her silks and could feel the sun’s warmth, almost like fingers stroking along her skin, tracing just over her breastbone. She sighed, gripping the book tighter as she blinked, trying to focus on the page. A shadow fell over the text, Lady Lavinia glanced up and was immediately rewarded with a vision of the Queen Mary standing over her, her dark hair tumbling free over her shoulder, head tilted to the side to study her just as Lavinia had been studying the book in her hands just moments before.

“Your Majesty,” Lavinia breathed, getting to her feet clumsily, the heavy volume slipping from her fingers and thudding to the warm stones of the courtyard. She felt her face grow warm after her fumbling foolishness was followed by a silence.

“Please,” The Queen slipped a hand under Lavinia’s chin, “. . .don’t trouble yourself.”

Her cool fingers gently stroked along the lady’s jaw, tracing over the flushed skin, a deep, thoughtful expression crossing her features as she caressed Lavinia’s neck, “…sit.”

A moment passed of Lady Lavinia’s wordless awe in the wake of this otherworldly woman, this enchanting creature who bewitched her so. The moment passed, and ended awkwardly as she came back to herself and settled into her seat, bent to pick up the book from the flagstones, and settled it in her lap, her hands clasped together.

“What brings you here, Your Grace?”

“I thought a visit was in order. I do hope I haven’t imposed upon you, my dear lady.” The Queen Mary smiled even as she said this, knowing it was not true.

“Oh, no, Your Grace.” Lavinia hastened to explain, “I only thought that if you had need of me you need only have sent for me, Your Grace. As before.”

“And should I have need of you?” she watched this girl of a woman, almost of an age with herself, and yet still as apologetic and fearful as a child.

“I – I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace.” Lavinia could barely bring herself to meet the Queen’s eye, instead she looked down at the large book in her lap.

The Queen smiled knowingly, “You are blushing, my Lady Lavinia,” she said softly.

_~_

_What is this hold she has over me?_ Lady Lavinia mulled over this thought, _I am practically struck dumb whenever I am in her presence! This is becoming ridiculous._

Her frozen silence whenever the Queen was near could surely be attributed to the fact that she _was_ the Queen and being inferior to her brought on this feeling of snakes in the stomach and fire in the blood.

 _Silly,_ Lavinia told herself, _to be so affected by such a woman._

_But then, what manner of a woman was she?_

~

“Do you hunt?” Queen Mary asked her.

Lady Lavinia chewed her lip as she wondered if the Queen would dislike her answer. She told the gods’ honest truth, “Never, Your Grace.”

“Never?” The Queen looked surprised, her lips pursed for a moment.

“I do like to ride, but my lord husband has never invited me to go hunting with him. I think he finds me tiresome.” She finished ashamedly.

“What man does _not_ find his wife tiresome?” The Queen laughed, tipping her wine glass to her lips, “We women know who the real bores are, and _they_ are the ones who can hardly string a sentence together in the mornings, let alone one worth hearing the rest of the time. We must live to entertain ourselves. We must keep each other company.” She licked wine from her lips, settling herself more comfortably on the cushions that were piled upon each other on the floor.

“I’m afraid I don’t have many friends.” Lavinia admitted, “I’ve never been blessed with such company.” Friendship was a gift that the gods had never bestowed upon her; she had always taken this for a sign that she was not pretty or smart enough for the ladies of court.

“ _Your_ company, my dear, _is_ a blessing.” The Queen smiled, and brushed the back of her hand across Lavinia’s cheek fondly. Lavinia’s face immediately became pink. Was it the proximity to her Queen, or merely because she was _the_ Queen? She was becoming more and more confused between the two.

~

“Come, my dear Lavinia, don’t pretend that you haven’t heard the courtier’s whispers about your Queen.”

“I - ” Lavinia blushed as fiercely as she first did when the whispered words had taken root in her mind; the very idea made her tremble, though she knew not why. Queen Mary’s interest in her own knowledge of the rumours made her cheeks and neck all the redder.

The Queen was still watching her expectantly, her eyes drawn and guarded.

“I – I did not think they had any substance, Your Grace.” Lavinia bit her tongue as the Queen’s face changed, her expression now one of amusement and intrigue.

“And why is that?” she asked, “Did you think it an impossible thing to do? Impure? Sinful?” she laughed then, “ _Frightful?_ There is much and more to some things than what idle-simple-minded mouths will tell you.”

Lavinia fumbled for words, “I only thought . . . I thought it wrong to listen to gossip concerning our Monarch . . . _it might be treason._ ” she ended her sentence in a whisper, and the Queen’s hard gaze flickered a she wondered if Lady Lavinia was not only speaking of gossip. Her eyes narrowed, but her smile stayed sweet, sincere. Perhaps this girl was more than she appeared.

Mary moved closer to Lavinia, placing a hand gently on the lady’s shoulder and leaning in slowly.

“It isn’t at all what you think.” she whispered in Lavinia’s ear, brushing a lock of soft red hair behind it, “It just might be what you’ve thought _of…”_ she pressed a kiss just behind Lavinia’s ear, the touch making her tremble. Mary laid her left hand softly on Lavinia’s neck, her voice low and velvety in Lavinia’s ear when she spoke again, and brushed her other hand lightly over Lavinia’s breast.

“. . _. Have you ever made love to a woman in your mind?”_

Lavinia gasped, her nipple tightened under the Queen’s touch, her eyes fluttered shut . . . but Mary only stood – and left the room with barely a flicker of a glance in the Lady’s direction.

That sound from Lavinia’s mouth was all the answer she needed.

~

Gazing at Queen Mary sitting upon her throne next to the King, Lavinia wondered if it was not treason, to love your Queen more than was appropriate. If someone asked if you loved the King, of course you would say you loved the King. If someone asked if you loved the Queen, you would say you loved the Queen. But what would she say if someone asked her if she loved the Queen? There were now two meanings to that question.

And Lavinia only had one answer for that.

“Tonight.” Lavinia felt the whisper in her ear, hot and fast, “I’ll have someone come for you.” The Queen brushed past her in the throne room with lords and ladies milling all around them. She was gone as soon as Lavinia could blink.

The remainder of the day passed as if she were in a dream. Words spoken to her were all strung together, muffled, meaningless. It was nightfall in what seemed like a minute. And she found herself dressing in a silken robe and nothing else, covering her nakedness with a heavy coat of fur that dragged along the stone floors. The messenger came. She was female and silent.

Lavinia couldn’t speak herself for fright. She felt as if she would die right there.

They were soon at the Queen’s door. The silent servant stared at her wordlessly until she raised a shaking hand and knocked softly on the door, although the sound was like thunder to her in the silence.

“Come.”

Then the servant seemed to just melt away . . .

She pushed the heavy door open and slipped inside, holding back a gasp at the size of the bedchamber. Tapestries covered the cold stone walls, a fire burned in the hearth, the size of it was so that Lavinia could have walked into without having to bend down. Extravagantly woven carpets covered the floors, overlapping each other, a myriad of colours. She then looked to the bed, which was so large it could fit ten people comfortably. But only one reclined upon it; Mary, wearing barely even a scrap of silk, the shadow of a smile playing upon her lips.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Lavinia nodded, hardly daring to speak. She had wanted to come, if she could say so, she would. She had wanted this for longer than she even knew.

But this was greater than she had even dared imagine.

The Queen was watching her intently, so rather than displease her, Lavinia reached for the cord of her heavy fur cloak and let it fall to the floor, it made a soft ‘ _flump’._

“Would you have me undress, my Queen?”

Mary only took a breath, and said (although it was almost a hiss), “ _Yes_.”

Lavinia stood bare, pale and trembling as the Queen watched her drop her silk wrap to the floor, taking her in like the scent of a fine wine as she herself lay in her bed of furs, naked as her nameday. Lavinia trembled so fiercely in the wake of this woman she so adored and feared, clasping her hands in front of her and shook, waiting, waiting for her to say something, “Do I please you, Your Grace?” she was so torn between excitement and fear she had to bite into her lip to keep her teeth from knocking together.

Queen Mary watched her, intrigued at this woman who didn’t seem to know whether to run _to_ the bed or _from_ it. She tilted her head, smiling, feeling that familiar pull deep within herself, the delicious itch of desire, “Very much.” she answered.

From Lavinia’s chest left the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, and she stepped closer to the bed, reaching out when she was close enough to touch it, running her fingers along the wolf mantle that lay upon it, the browns, blacks, creams, whites, and golds of the pelt, and her hand was suddenly stroking along the queen’s arched foot, caressing up her legs, the smooth, soft hairs silken under her palm. A soft moan left the Queen, but she remained just as proud lying there naked as she did when she sat robed upon her throne.

“You know I love you.” The Queen stared at her levelly, beautiful and bare.

Lavinia nodded, barely breathing, “Yes. I know.”

That was the last thing spoken between them for a while.


End file.
